Make it stop! That’s what I’m thinking. Goodness, mercy me! How in the world have we survived this experiment, this year-long foray into the world of homeschooling? Month upon month, day-in-day-out of intentional bonding with my kids. Three days more and we’ll cross the finish line . . . and we still like one another, this lunchroom lady and her pupils. Some days it’s been too much; some days a good fit with family routine.
All days . . . yes, each one of them grounded and founded in prayer. It’s the only reasonable explanation for our being able to reach this milestone with any measure of grace and tangible accomplishment. Early on, God impressed into my spirit a daily requirement: Feed your soul, Elaine, before feeding others. And so I have. So we have. A collective, morning requirement.
We start the day with prayer, followed by individual Bible lessons. Jadon in the kitchen. Amelia in the living room. Me in the bedroom. Each one of us opening up the Word of the God and allowing him a moment or two or thirty at the lectern of our hearts. For my children, perhaps, it’s a practice that’s felt a bit perfunctory at times. I suppose the same could be said for me. But I know something they have yet to fully grasp: Faithful obligation yields a firm foundation. A daily dose of truth roots us deeper within the everlasting soil that is touched and tended by the loving Gardener of our souls. He is where we must start – each day, each thought, each hope – anchored within the eternal.
To God belongs the success. He’s been the key to our learning – a schooling that has far exceeded any information contained on the pages of textbooks. Yes, God has required more of us this year than what can be calculated and quantified by end-of-grade testing. He’s required heart growth, a garden of Spirit-led expansion that includes fruit like patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control, and a love without limits.
Oh the lessons we’ve learned! Some through tears. Some through wounding. Some through joy. Some through laughter. I imagine we’ll spend this next season discovering the fullness of what this means for us as a family. But today, as I stand on the backside of something I was sure I wouldn’t be able to accomplish of the front side of its unfolding, there is one thing I know for certain.
I’ve given my all for my students. I’ve not always given them my best, but I have willingly surrendered my heart to the process so that their hearts might grow in a right and good direction. In years to come, I don’t know how my kids will remember this time. If they take nothing else away from these last 180 days spent together, my hope is that they will remember our morning prayers and their daily digs into truth.
Faithful obligation yields a firm foundation. From here, God can grow a kingdom . . .
In Jadon. In Amelia. And in the one they call the “lunchroom lady.”
It’s been my joy and privilege to serve you, sweet ones.
Peace for your journeys of grace and beyond. I love being your mom.